Decent and Delirious
by beaniebaby0112
Summary: After the war, Hermione is forced into a normal life at the Ministry, surrounded by fame, her friends, and her family. However, there's a piece missing from her soul and no one knows why, with the exception of herself. What if she's given the opportunity to get it back at the risk of messing with the continuity of time? Fred/Hermione, Marauders, M for safety/later chapters
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first real experience writing a piece like this. There's time-travel, the Marauders are going to pop up, and it's going to be a bit of an AU. I'm going to keep a lot of canon components but I don't have a concrete plan for this yet- I only have a general direction. The timeline of the story is a bit jumpy and I'll try my best to differentiate between who is who and when is when, but please let me know if you have no idea what is going on. Also keep in mind that I make changes among various chapters as I go, so until I finalize this fic, everything is up for criticism and change. Please review!

Chapter I: A Decision

April 8th, 2000

In the rare moments that Hermione sporadically lost awareness of her current situation, it was the brown-eyed, freckled, and dreamy face that somehow ended up in the palm of her hands. When she could no longer could remember the whirling world that she had been forced into by the laws of time, she thought of the loose red strands of hair mingling where her fingers met her palm and where only her quill or wand would fit more perfectly. The smell of smoky caramel and the ever-familiar scent of parchment engulfed her, and she leaned back- only to realize that she was only sinking further into the couch that took up half of her flat. She was still in current time, a rather dreary, disappointing, cold April day.

These were the moments that hurt the most. Sinking far into her couch and even farther into her past and hoping for oblivion. Hoping to be forgotten by the people around her so that she could lose the obligation to live life like a functional human being. Hoping to fall into the world of her thoughts and memories. Hoping to remain there for the rest of eternity. If she didn't so despise the idea of acting on her own behalf, she would reminisce about the days before the battle forever in the comfort of the flat, that had a presence in her memories from before her current and self-proclaimed "dark days". If she didn't so despise the idea of acting selfishly, Hermione would take the golden trinket from her pocket and twist the orb as far back as she could. The ridges in the surface of the knobs would imprint themselves into the pads of her fingers.

But Hermione was rational- she knew she was being unreasonably sad and she knew that she had to move on. Everyone had lost someone in the war, everyone had lost a piece of themselves to the war. Hermione supposed that, in a sense, losing someone was a form of sacrifice. The losses were for the greater good. For the safety of the next generation. For the safety of the world and all that etc shit. Those that had died knew what they were getting into and they were willing to accept those risks. Unfortunately, this meant that everyone in the present day was left wallowing in their own memories, but life went on.

It had to go on, which is why the supposedly rational people spelled the memories of their own lost piece out of their head. A simple spell cast for simple oblivion. It became easier to function without infinitely continuous grief, and Hermione could understand their motivation to take this path. If she didn't have to face her own painful memories, she would be able to walk down the street without swallowing shaky sobs. If she could just put the wand to her head, and use the modified form of _obliviate_ to charm the memories out of her head, she wouldn't have to wallow in her own guilt. Hermione supposed that this failure to charm herself made her sadistic and irrational, but she couldn't resist. She had built up memories in the current decade and in decades past, and those weren't memories that she was willing to give up for the sake of sanity.

Hermione ruffled her fingers through her hair. She was tired of living in this constant moroseness. Golden light streamed onto her, reminding her of the constant desire she had to leave. Reminding her that she had to push those thoughts into the deepest corners of her mind. Every day was the same- with the rise of the sun, she had to allow the rays of light remove any semblance of darkness within her. Everything was forced, like the gravity that kept Earth in its elliptical orbit. Nothing was free.

A barn owl tapped on her window, with a small scroll tied up to their leg. Giving them a Knut and a treat from the bowl she kept on hand, Hermione swiftly removed the familiarly formal parchment from the owl's leg, and they flew off. She was quite sure that this was going to be a repeat of the message that she had begun to receive weekly (or more, she couldn't keep track) from the Ministry so she began to mentally prepare herself to leave the flat. She did this before even beginning to read the sloppy ink that was scrawled on the parchment. For a man of such high authority, Hermione often founded herself astounded by how much this man's script matched that of chicken scrawl.

 _Need you to come to the Ministry as soon as you possibly can. I have a situation that needs to be handled and I'm afraid that I am in need of your expertise. Thank you so much for everything you do- I'm afraid you're far too valuable to my office for me to be content with the fact that you are currently sorting papers for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Have you considered moving to the Department of Mysteries? Or maybe directly to my own office?_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Kingsley_

Sighing, she began her daily ritual, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of putting on a pair of his old Quidditch socks underneath her Ministry robes. She washed her face, put her hair up in a knot, did a couple of beauty charms that Ginny had taught her, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. A small scar lined the curve of her jaw, but it was so faint that it was only visible to those who looked closely, and only felt by those who knew where to touch. Another scar, jagged in appearance but smooth to the touch, sat atop of her shoulder, inches from her collarbone. Instinctually, her hand drifted there and grazed the scar that, over the years, had become oddly comforting to her. Snapping out of her trance, she grabbed her mug of coffee, finished it in nearly one gulp, and was on her way out of the door of Number 93 Diagon Alley and to the London Underground.

Very few people knew the path that sneaked around Fortescue's and lead to muggle London from Diagon Alley, so Hermione was able to get to the tube without attracting too much attention to herself. The tube was a nice and easy commuting ritual for her, serving as a simple reminder of her days before the Wizarding World. As an escalator took her down to the platform, she realized that she hadn't had much time to keep up with Muggle inventions, and reminded herself to restudy modern mechanics, electricity, and twenty-first century inventions. The trip to the Ministry was short, relaxing, and one of the best parts of her day, considering that no one stared or begged for autographs. Once she got off the train at Westminster station and into the bathroom (which she had never used for regular or routine bathroom purposes and hoped that no one ever did), she flushed herself into the Ministry and into the large, familiar auditorium. Thankfully, she had pulled enough strings that the "Magic is Might" structure had been taken down. But while she no longer had to face that form of horrendous bigotry on a daily basis, she still had to face the relentless press.

"Miss Granger, Miss Granger!"

She sighed. She supposed that there wasn't very much she could do to escape her "fanbase". She wasn't an employee of the Minister's office, which meant that Kingsley couldn't technically grant her a private entrance. She supposed that if she really tried, she could persuade him to break a couple rules, but considering that she was a member of law enforcement, she didn't want to be hypocritical. If there was anything Hermione wanted to be, hypocritical was not one of them.

"I can be reached at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through simple post, though, Misses Bleeker and Skeeter, I'm sure you were already aware of this since I have told you every day for the past two years. Please do not attempt to send ridiculous letters of inquiry for your daughter's birthday party or anything of the like, because I can guarantee that I will not have the time. My mailbox is charmed to get rid of junk mail and love potions, meaning that you can stop trying Mr. McLaggen." She harrumphed her way through the crowd and hoped that no one would bother her for the rest of her trip to the Minister's office. Kingsley held her in high regards as a close friend, which came as no surprise to her, considering their shared past and similar ideology.

The elevator ride was only slightly better than her experience in the auditorium, but the trip was short and she was able to run onto the Minister's floor pretty quickly without an issue. A small, rushed-looking redhead made darting eye contact with her as she got off the elevator. His glasses fell of from the sudden motion that this eye contact had required, revealing the dark bags under his eyes. Hermione frowned. He had always overworked himself, even if the things he did were relatively menial. A paper flew off his desk and onto the floor as he stood up to greet her, walking quickly around the corner of his desk. They began to walk down the central corridor, dodging through a maze of desks, all while engaging in rapid fire conversation.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. Did the Minister update you on the current situation?"

"Percy, you call me Hermione everywhere else that we are- I was just at the Burrow with you yesterday- is it really so difficult for you to call me Hermione here?"

"Forgive me, but I really must say that I find simple pleasure in the formal tone taken in the environment of this office, Miss _Hermione_."

"Well, I doubt that that's a reasonable excuse, so don't expect the same attitude from me. You're no longer a prefect, Percy, I won't follow your every move." The tips of his ears flushed crimson. "And no, Kingsley only informed me that he had a situation at hand instead of the actual happenings. Do you know what's going on?"

"I have no idea, but if you recall that I am usually completely aware of every situation- practically, if not literally, all the time- meaning that right now, I must say that I am completely taken aback by the fact that you are here and yet I am unaware as to the reason why. Naturally, I am going with you to the Minister's office to speculate. Hope you don't mind me following you. "

"I do hope there're no feline traces in you. You do know what they say about curiosity."

The pair stopped in front of the Minister's doors. Hermione looked at the redhead, tilted her face to the side, and then stepped around him and into the office of, arguably, the most powerful wizard in Britain at the current moment. He sat comfortably in his chair with his fingers laced together, waiting quite obviously for her arrival.

"Kingsley, care to explain why Percy doesn't know what's going on?"

The powerful wizard gazed sadly at Percy, allowing himself a moment of emotional vulnerability, but then returned an intense gaze back at Hermione.

"Close the door behind you, Hermione. I'm sure your good friend here will find out about the situation that we have at hand soon enough."

She looked at the man with a confused look- he had never acted so grim before, not even before the war. What was it that he could tell her, but not Percy? Her curiosity got the best of her, so she turned around to shut the door behind her, giving Percy a half apologetic look in the process. When she got back to her position in front of the Minister, he sighed and relaxed into his chair.

"I'm afraid we have a time-travel mishap that you'd be very deeply interested in, Miss Granger."

"Well, while I always have been interested in the functionality of time, I was under the impression that these things were too serious for someone to take care of without the proper training? What is it that I can help you with that the Department of Mysteries cannot? Forgive me for wondering, but should you not respond to them instead of me?"

"Well, that would be standard protocol, yes. However, I have recently come into possession of a particular piece of- well, for lack of better term – joke product that has a message inscribed to me in it. The message, inscribed by George Weasley, directs me to pass this on to you. However, he charmed it to show how much time has passed since he left the message, and my most prized analysts have confirmed that he did indeed inscribe this message in 1975." He took out a rubber wand, and balanced it gently on his fingertips. "Would it be wrong of me to assume that this object would be of particular interest to you?"

Hermione gasped. It was the most recent prototype of a trick wand that, instead of transforming to a rubber chicken to all users, transformed to a specified object to only certain (specified) holders. It was the last prototype that she and George created before he spontaneously disappeared roughly two weeks ago. They hadn't even had the time to test it or show it to any one else. Could time be rewritten? The last time that Hermione and Fred had been thrown back in time, it was to ensure that everything that was supposed to happen in present time, happened. Or had they been rewriting time without even noticing it?

Realizing that she was holding her breath, Hermione slowly exhaled and leaned forward to grab hold of the wand, gently moving her fingers across the inscription. The inscribed "GW" could easily be recognized by anyone who had ever looked at a Weasley product. But Hermione could not see a message inscribed to Kingsley on the surface of the wand, which made her realize that messages were triggered by the touch of the witch or wizard that was meant to receive it. How ingenious.

Kingsley allowed her to take it from his hands, and the moment that it was only her skin touching it, it turned into a roll of parchment.

 _Hermione,_

 _I've found Fred and I think I've seriously messed up the time continuum. I was blasted back to 1975 after touching an old letter that he left me dated for our birthday of this year. You're here with him and Sirius and Remus and James and Lily, and luckily, no one has seen me yet, but I have to lay low so that I don't mess anything up. I don't know what I'm doing Hermione. You have to get here. I don't want to be stuck here in hiding because this might be our chance to save our Fred. Meet me in the Potions section of the library- that's the once place that Fred would never find himself in, plus there's a nice crevice that I've been able to hide in (disillusioned) until the librarian (a librarian that's not Madam Pince- I didn't realize that there had ever been another librarian) locks up. So far, I've had the time to recreate the prototype and charm it with this message. Shacklebolt is still a student here so I've written his name and some directions into the rubbery outside and left it where I believe he usually studies. Hopefully, I won't have to send anymore joke wand messages because you'll be here soon._

 _George  
April 8th, 1975_

From her pocket, she took out the amber and emerald encrusted time turner that she had been holding onto for months. Remembering the exact events of the 1975 she had spent with Fred, Hermione slowly realized why Fred had charmed George back to exactly a quarter of a century ago.

Unfortunately, what Fred hadn't anticipated when he wrote that letter, was that he would be dead.

The laws of time could be bent, manipulated, and broken, which made Hermione's position in Magical Law Enforcement seem rather ironic. Without giving Kingsley a proper warning, she turned the topaz inside the time turner, and made her decision.

Kingsley- who had sat stiff and upright when the joke wand had transformed- sank back into his chair and waited. He had figured out some time ago that something like this would happen, and now it was his duty to provide help to Hermione and everyone else involved when they needed it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry my chapters are so short! It makes it easier for organizational purposes and my slow paced writing, but also, I get to update more often. I changed the dates in this chapter a little after posting it because I realized that a) the first Hogsmeade trip was not the one Harry snuck into but it was on Halloween and b) Sirius Black attacks the Fat Lady on Halloween. Not sure if that reveals anything but I'll make sure I'm more careful in the future. Please review!

Chapter II: The Beginning of the Journey

October 5th, 1993

Hermione twiddled with the time turner that Professor McGonagall had given her earlier that year, and sighed. She had been sitting in the library for hours, researching the various uses of time turners and the multiple forms of time travel. She was exhausted with the amount of information that seemed vague and subjective, and she slumped deeper into her chair, thinking about all the things that she could do with the minuscule golden trinket in her hands. She wanted concrete information on how to travel farther back in time, to a precise time that was decades before her own, but each book only skirted around the subject and said that "time travel was a matter of self discovery". Regardless, she would never- _could_ never- betray the trust that Professor McGonagall had in her, no matter how much the idea tempted her. This time turner was meant only for going to classes that conflicted with her own schedule, and that was that. Even though Hermione knew that there was no way that the professor could trace exactly how far back the time turner had gone, the guilt she would have if she went back in time would most likely lead to her early and unprecedented death. There was no way she could live with committing such a large act of disrespect.

What Hermione found the most fascinating though, was the fact that many of the books that she read spoke of time travel as if it were destiny. The meager personal recollections of time travel, mentioned in a couple of the books she was reading, had all spoken to the fact that they, the time traveller, never decided to travel back numerous years into the past until the precise moment that they began to spin the spools of the time turner. Furthermore, once they had travelled back in time, they said that everything felt as if it were instinct to them, and they didn't stress as much as they thought they would have to about keeping time the way it was supposed to be. Secretly, Hermione hoped that she would have this experience some day, but of course, hoping to time travel did nothing to help her actually time travel. The most she could manage to do right now was get in a couple extra classes each week, which was exhausting in itself. She continued to twiddle with the time turner as she got up to stretch her legs a little bit, leaving her completely unaware of the redhead that was turning the corner into the section of the library that she currently occupied. Too busy gazing out of the window at the castle grounds, she didn't notice that the lanky redhead had walked over to the book she had left open and began to read it.

"Hey, Hermione. Reading about time travel, are we? Are you secretly super mega old and from the past? Is that why you remind me so much of a grandma?"

With a gasp and a quick pocketing of her time turner, Hermione turned around and noticed the Weasley twin's presence. Standing tall, yet only slightly towering over her, he smirked down at her as she scrambled to her book, slammed it shut, picked it up, and hit him on the arm with quite a bit of force.

"If you are so desperate to know _Fred,_ I am researching time travel because I can and I want to and I am not a grandma, thank you very much!" She stuttered, sitting back down with a huff. It was then that realized that she had never seen a Weasley, with the exception of Percy, come in to the library for any reason, unless they intended to copy homework. "What are you even doing inside the library?" She asked him curiously, genuinely interested in what his answer was going to be.

The redhead just looked at her and smirked. "Where do you think me and Georgie get all of our brilliant prank ideas, Granger? He always sends me up here to do some research and he gets to go off testing some of our stuff with a couple of first years. I'm here more often than you would like to think."

She should have known that Fred would never have been in here to study for his O.W.L.s, even though he was going to take them in just a couple of months. If she were him right now, she would have already been studying since the summer.

"George is testing stuff on unknowing first years? That's preposterous! You do know that I'm within every one of my rights to go and tell McGonagall right now, don't you?"

Fred gave her a goofy grin, but pretended to look taken aback. "What makes you think that'd we'd take _unwilling_ first years? Our volunteers are more than excited to test our amazing new products. But hey, if you're so mad that we're using first years, would you like volunteer to test some of our stuff for us?"

Hermione almost fell out of her chair and then snorted. She looked back down to her notes to make sure that Fred knew she was busy, even though she really wasn't. "As if I would want to try any of _your_ products Fred. Those things are horrible."

Fred frowned a little bit and then sat down on the opposite side of the small corridor enclosed by shelves of books. "Well, I hope you don't mind me sitting here. As it turns out, George and I's next product is going to involve some tricky time stuff and I came to this section to begin my research."

Hermione turned around, her mouth practically hanging to the floor as Fred grabbed a book that she had already read from the shelf and began to legitimately read the book. Hermione felt the older boy change from a dimwitted prankster in her mind to a slightly more respectable, and slightly more intelligent, prankster. Out of actual curiosity, she wanted to ask what he and his brother were working on, but she realized that she would be submitting herself to him, which would almost be as bad as condoning his ridiculous behavior. She stuck her nose back into her book and became determined to always know more about time travel than Fred ever would know. She couldn't let this Weasley surpass her in any way, shape, or form.

October 27th, 1993

The past couple of weeks after her and Fred's first encounter in the library were strange, to say the least. He wasn't lying about researching time travel- in fact, Fred was often in the library before Hermione was even able to get there. Hermione had to make her way around him in order to grab some books and run off to read them somewhere else, and this made her time at the library all that much harder. At this point, Hermione had discovered some of the time travel enhancing qualities that certain gems had when they were inscribed with the runic symbols, and it just so happened that she had found spots on her own time turner where small gems would fit perfectly. This gave her the perfect excuse to finally leave the section of the library dedicated to time travel and move on to the section dedicated to runes and gems. She went off to ask Madam Pince where this section was, and the librarian led her exactly back to where Fred was sitting, leaving Hermione with Fred as well as a scowl on her pursed lips. The two looked at each other, and Hermione grabbed a book about runes and sat down on a chair that was as far away from Fred as she could get without leaving the rune section of the library. Unfortunately, that wasn't very far. She began to inscribe the runes for "time", "fate", "destiny", and "luck" onto the gems in her pocket, allowing her hands to steadily make the curves and symbols that they needed to make.

"Trying to run away from me, Granger?"

Hermione continued to inscribe runes at a quick pace, planning to ignore all of Fred's remarks and get back to her studying. The two sat in silence for a while, and Hermione realized how remarkably calm Fred was as he studied. The Fred of the library was close to the polar opposite of the Fred that threw dungbombs in the hallways. In here, he managed to concentrate and really commit himself to quality research. As she inscribed the runes, she watched as he shook his leg up and down, and chewed on the tip of his quill out of frustration. He ruffled his fingers through his red hair, and Hermione found herself dually impressed by Fred Weasley, yet again. When he turned over to look at her, she diverted her gaze back at her lap, finding herself ashamed of the idea that she could appreciate Fred Weasley.

"Don't you think it's weird that we're always researching things that are all related to time travel? I thought it was weird that you spent so much time on time travel, considering that you already have a time turner anyways, but then I found myself doing the same, and I have no idea why."

Hermione gasped and looked at the redhead that had inched his way closer to her corner of the library. He knew that she had a time turner? She immediately felt guilty for being irresponsible enough that Fred Weasley, of all people, was able to figure out her secret. If he knew, who else knew? Her heart raced and she struggled to remain quiet as she practically hissed through her teeth. " _What?_ … how do y-you…"

"Relax, Granger. Only the chain peeps out of the pockets of your robes sometimes. Anyone else might suspect that you have a bracelet or necklace in your pocket, but certainly not a time turner. The only reason that I recognize the chain is because I've been sitting here in the library, researching hundreds of different time turners. Do you understand how powerful your time turner is? It has a gold chain made of infinitesimally small fractal loops- goblin made, of course- which means that, with the proper adjustments, your time turner could take more than one person to over a century in the past."

Hermione already knew that, and the enhancements that he was talking about were exactly the gems and runes that she had just begun to study. But the fact that he knew all this already worried her. "Why do you know all of that?"

He shrugged. "I was curious, and something weird compelled me to read these books. Of course, I told George that I was working on a way that we could skip class more easily, maybe make time move faster, but none of my research led me to a way that I could do that. Instead, it led me to that exact time turner that you have in your pocket, and to the runes that I know you're going to inscribe on amber and emerald and place inside of the time turner. Hermione, what are you scheming?"

Hermione had to blink her eyes a couple times and pinch herself to make sure that everything that had happened was real. Her heart was still racing inside of her ribcage, and her breathing was getting increasingly more shallow. He grabbed her arm, but her mind was in overdrive and she couldn't concentrate on the pressure that he was putting on her bicep- did she really have a plan? She hadn't even thought of the idea that she could have a plan for what she was doing- which made absolutely no rational sense. "Fred… I think that both of us are functioning against our own wills."

He frowned, removing his arm from her side. "That's exactly what I was afraid of. How far have you gotten on inscribing the gems?"

"I… I finished inscribing them the moment you told me that you knew about the time turner."

The pair looked at each other, both realizing that this meant that everything was set for either of them to travel. All they had to wait for was the right time, and they knew that they would know when and where that time would be when it came. The only problem was that they could never figure it out ahead of time, and their only option was to wait.

"You should keep the time turner on you at all times. 'Til next time, Granger." And with a bow, Fred left a rather flabbergasted Hermione in the library, panting and sinking deep into her chair.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm trying to write everything so that it more or less adheres with the canon timeline and wouldn't drastically change the outcome of the entire series, so Harry's story and knowledge of things is basically going to be exactly the same as it was in the books. I'm using Shaya Lonnie's amazing timeline and organization to help me write. You can find it on her weebly: .com in her FAQ's.

7/5/16 update: I've combined what I originally had as chapters 3 & 4 into one chapter (this one) so if you've been keeping tabs on this fic, don't be alarmed!

Chapter III: Gunhilda Will Take You To The Sweets

Breakfast, October 29th, 1993

Hermione, of course, was never able to take her mind off of that blasted time-turner, but who could she tell? It was bad enough that Fred knew, and she couldn't let other people in on the secret that McGonagall had entrusted her with. Harry would accidentally let it slip to Ron. Ron would hate her for spending so much time with his brother. Ginny would eternally torment her brother for setting foot inside a library. And her dorm mates… well, she couldn't exactly tell Parvati or Lavender or any of the other girls. They were too busy giggling over who they were going to take to Hogsmeade and the obscene things that they were going to do to them.

Hogsmeade! Hermione slapped her palm on her forehead, realizing that she had completely forgotten. Ron and Harry looked at her over the breakfast that lined the table, and she was going to say something about Hogsmeade until she remembered that Harry couldn't go. She sat there, sputtering a little bit, and both Harry and Ron tilted their heads at her.

"Hermione, you okay?" Harry asked her kindly. She swallowed her words and some of her oatmeal, and calmed down enough to reply. She wasn't about to risk reminding Harry that he couldn't go with them to Hogsmeade.

"Yeah just realized that I didn't return my charms book to the library yesterday, and it's due today; that's all." She muttered. Ron and Harry grinned at her, and went back to discussing the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match. Secretly, she was glad that Harry couldn't go to Hogsmeade, what with Sirius Black running out and about. She had learned some high level defensive spells just in case Harry snuck out and ran into him at Hogsmeade, but Hermione was hoping that she wouldn't have to use the spells, considering that she hadn't exactly had ample time to practice them. Theory was all that she had going for her at the moment, but she decided that theory was better than nothing and would have to do. When Hermione had finished with her food, she looked up at the boys, who had long been done their third helpings. "You guys wanna head over to the greenhouses for Herbology?"

Ron looked at her with a pouty face. "We still have like 15 minutes left, Hermioneee."

"And it takes 10 minutes to walk down; I don't wanna risk being late because you were too lazy to stand up, Ronald." Harry laughed and began to grab his bags.

Ron gawped at Harry picking up his bags. "You're just going to give in?! Just like that?!

"We might as well just go, mate. Come on." Hermione smiled at her friend- this was his way of sticking up for her. Ron made a dramatic sigh as he slung his bag over his shoulder and with that, the trio set off in the direction of the greenhouses. Before they were even out of the Great Hall, Hermione made eye contact with another red-headed student that was steadily decreasing the distance that was between them, and immediately averted her gaze to the floor. He cast her a goofy grin, and grabbed Ron under his elbow and gave his little brother a noogie.

"Hey lil Ronniekins, how's it been? Hermione here doing all your homework for ya?"

Ron quickly turned piping hot red, pulled himself out of his brother's chokehold, and looked in a direction opposite to where his two brothers stood, trying very hard to appear mature and confident. "Don't call me that, Fred. Leave me alone."

Fred and George feigned gasping. "Alright Mister. Don't be surprised when you see dungbombs in your bed for that sass." As they began to walk away, Fred slipped a note into the pocket of her robes that contained the time turner. Without acknowledging Fred at all, Hermione began to sprint towards the greenhouses. Leaving Ron and Harry far behind her, looking intensely confused. "Hermione, wait up!" They shouted, but she only slowed her pace slightly. "We're going to be late!" She shouted, completely aware of the fact that they'd be on time to class, regardless of whether or not they ran. Once she knew she was far enough away from them to steal a glance at the note that was left for her, she reached into her pocket for the small piece of crumpled parchment.

 _On an exciting day that looms not far ahead, you can find me with the one-eyed witch who cured the itchies in the hallway that's 2 floors above the first; it'll take us below the sugar quills._

 _Forge_

 _PS (Don't)_ F _(orget the)_ red

She rolled her eyes. Was he inviting her to Hogsmeade with him to get candy? Ridiculous. And meeting near the statue of Gunhilda of Goosemoor on the third floor? Hermione was surprised Fred even knew of the statue, let alone know that it was Gunhilda who cured Dragon pox. All things considered though, she supposed she would have to give Fred some time in her day. Her original plan was to go to Hogsmeade with Ron, but she knew she would have no fun spending the day with him in Hogsmeade at Zonko's. The only reason she was going with Ron was because Ron wouldn't have Harry, but really, all she wanted was to spend time at the legendary bookshop, Tomes and Scrolls. If she went with Fred instead, it would be easier to abandon him and submit to her heart's desire. Now, all she needed was to get Ron to go with someone else so that he wouldn't have to feel lonely.

Hermione looked behind her, and both Harry and Ron were slowly making their way towards her. She was lucky that they weren't the type of people to rush to class, regardless of whether or not she did.

" 'Mione, you didn't have to rush so much; me 'nd Harry are still early and we didn't even run."

"Whatever, Ron." The three took their place at their stations in the greenhouse, and when Professor Sprout began to talk about different varieties of Shrivelfigs, Hermione forgot everything else that had happened that day and was swallowed by the curriculum.

Morning, October 31st, 1993

Hermione hadn't had a spare moment with Ron since she got that letter from Fred. She needed to come up with an excuse about why she couldn't go to Hogsmeade with him so that she could meet Fred on the third floor, and now, she would have to tell him the day of the trip.

Hermione met with Ron and a couple of the other third-year Gryffindors in front of the portrait, and they set off in the direction of the courtyard. Hermione sent an apologetic look to Harry, who sat in front of the fireplace alone, and suggested that he talk to Professor Lupin while they were in Hogsmeade. The portrait shut behind her, and she told Ron to go ahead with Dean and Seamus.

"I'll catch up with you later. I've got to stop in the library for a moment." He gave her one last glance, and then ran to catch up with his dorm mates. Turns out, it would be easier to get rid of Ron than she thought it would be. She set off in the direction of the third floor corridor, and when she arrived at the statue of the one-eyed witch, Hermione found herself alone.

She sighed. Of course Fred would be like any other boy, either abandoning her or arriving extremely late. What could she expec-

Midthought, Hermione found herself being pulled behind the statue and she tumbled down a dark chute, and into the arms of a familiar redhead. Doubled over from laughing so hard, Fred offered his hand to Hermione, who refused to take it.

"Honestly," she huffed, "you could have given me some sort of warning." Slowly, she pushed herself off of the ground, dusting herself off and blowing her hair out of her face as quickly as she could. "I don't know why you find this so amusing. I could have been seriously injured, yet you're just over here laughing and mocking me. Your mother would be asham- would you _please_ stop laughing and listen to me?"

"You," Fred gasped through laughs, "shoulda seen- your- face. You," he wheezed, "have cobwebs in your hair." He burst into another fit of giggles and Hermione crossed her arms across her face, picked the webs out of her hair, and began to walk forward, but stopped when she realized she didn't know which way to go.

"Just show me how to get to Hogsmeade through here, Fred."

Fred took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Alright, alright, follow me. I've got a light up pygmy puff that I can put on my shoulder so that we don't have to be completely in the dark." He started walking forward, and Hermione followed the flashing technicolor piece of fluff into the darkness.

Not too much time had passed before Fred came to an abrupt stop. Hermione, who was too busy sucking in and memorizing her surroundings, ran into him and fell. Again. But this time, Fred didn't laugh and instead he stared at the ground next to Hermione with a concerned look on his face.

"Fred, what are you looking at?" She followed his gaze to the ground and immediately, she realized that her time turner had slipped out of her pocket. But instead of being its usual gem-encrusted, golden-tinted accessory, it was spinning on its axis and the gems were slowly switching spots. Each revolution took a couple seconds and the movements were not frantic, but Hermione and Fred found themselves worried nonetheless.

Hermione pulled it by the chain and put it back into her pocket. "So is there an exit near here?" Fred, who was still looking at her pocket, lifted his arm up behind him and pulled a ladder down.

"How convenient! I assume this leads to Honeydukes and that we are currently 'below the sugar quills'? Come on, then! I'm itching for some nougat chunks." She made her way past Fred, who had to blink a little bit to come to his senses, and then continued her way up the ladder. He let her reach the top and push her way out through the trapdoor until he followed her slowly up the ladder.

Hermione looked around the small pantry that she seemed to have entered and tapped on a glass jar of green liquid that was slowly churning itself. Shelves were stocked high with what she assumed were ingredients for candy, but she wasn't sure how much she would trust Honeydukes after realizing that the jar she had just tapped was full of flobberworm mucus. There were a couple doors leading out of the pantry, and Hermione realized that she didn't know which one to employ as an exit.

"So which way is it to-", Hermione began, but she was quickly cut off by Fred, who had regained the impish glint in his eyes. He had his hand on her mouth, and she couldn't help but admire his smell of smoky caramel and parchment.

"We need to be quiet," he whispered. "Mr. and Mrs. Flume haven't realized that George and I use this entryway yet." Hermione pursed her lips together, and Fred removed his hand from her face, leaving Hermione longing for his caramel and parchment scent yet again. He took a couple steps to the far corner of the dingy room and tapped thrice on a stone embedded into the wall. A small arching exit appeared and Hermione saw an alleyway that she thought must be in between the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes, but of course, this was her first school visit at Hogsmeade so she couldn't be 100% sure. Fred ducked under the arch and out into the breezy autumn air, and Hermione followed quickly just as the opening in the wall began to close back in to itself. She took a few deep breaths as she looked at everything around her- she was still amazed by the wizarding world, even though she had been living in it for the past two and a half years of her life. Fred gazed at her, thoroughly amused by how intrigued she looked by everything around her.

"So, prefect-to-be Hermione, are you going to tell on me?" he smirked. She opened her mouth and then closed it, quite obviously mulling over what she would do.

"Well Fred, although this isn't technically within school rules, I wouldn't say that you have broken any. I am willing to forget that this ever happened if I ever discover that this is indeed against the rules, and therefore, against my morals."

Rolling his eyes, Fred began walking the opposite direction of the town's centre square. "Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to show you something that is most definitely against the rules. Are you willing to come with me?" Hermione wasn't so sure, but he kept walking ahead of her (which was purposely done so that she didn't have enough time to contemplate her decision), and Hermione quickly followed suit.

Within a minute, Fred stood in front of the Shrieking Shack. A couple seconds later, a panting Hermione stood by him. "You planned, in advance, to take me to this ugly shack? Honestly, I think the dingy pantry we were in before was quite sufficient. I think that I'm going to head to Madam Malkin's to meet with some of my dorm mates. I'll see you later?"

She spun on her heel and took a step back in the direction of Honeydukes, but Fred pulled her back. "This is the Shrieking Shack. Have you not heard the legends?" Hermione shook her head. "Well, I have, and I've been dying to explore it but George has refused to come with me. I figured, that with you, I'd have someone who was both curious enough to come with me but also skilled enough to protect themselves if any of the legends were true. Are you ready?"

Hermione looked around and observed the absence of students around the shack. "Well, I certainly don't believe in any silly ghost stories," she harrumphed, and then began her way down the steep incline and into the shack.

"I never said they were ghost stories, did I?"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Not sure why this took me so long to write, but every time I sat down to write it, I only got about a sentence out of me and it took me forever to figure out how I wanted to write it. I should probably organize my storyline a little bit so I don't get this much writer's block again. By the way, I could still use a beta reader if anyone is interested… wink wink nudge nudge. Also, I'm on tumblr as dilysxderwent now! Dilys Derwent was a headmistress and a mediwitch, a combination that might as well be my life goals. My blog's kind of trash but it's all Harry Potter related stuff and you can contact me through it, sooooooo… anyway, here you go, sorry for the wait, and thank you to every single one of you who has followed my story! It really means so much. Just wondering, does anyone have an opinion on whether the author's note goes before or after the chapter? I like writing them, but idk where to place them. Thanks again!

Chapter IV: Memories of a Past Not Lived

Gazing at the ground the entire time that she descended the hill to the shack, Hermione forced herself to watch every arduous step that she took. She did not enjoy a single second of submitting herself to cowardice. The longer she stared, the weaker she felt. She desperately wanted to channel her inner Gryffindor, but she also did not want to fall flat on her face and embarrass herself, and so her eyes glued themselves in their place on the rocky terrain ahead of her. Her feet fell into an unsteady and agonizingly slow rhythm, one in front of the other.

Fred had already reached the bottom of the hill, having skillfully rolled his way down, and was tapping his foot impatiently. He needed to see what all the hype around the Shrieking Shack was. His feet were itching to take him there, but, no matter how much he wanted to get there, he knew he'd need someone with him if he were to encounter anything of tangible danger. He had no idea what to expect, so he decided that he needed to be prepared for the worst. Even though she was a couple years behind him, she knew spells, hexes, and charms that he had never even heard of. She was a know-it-all bookworm, sure, but she also had had the ability to remain relatively collected under pressure, and Fred knew that the mental aptness that she had would be of use to him on this particular endeavor. Well, technically speaking, her presence was only necessary because George had been too chicken to join him, but he wasn't going to complain. Hermione outranked both him and George combined when it came to spellwork, and her only fault was that she took everything without a single touch of optimism. While the sound of her laughter was not a sound that Fred could specifically recollect, the shrill tone of voice that she used when scolding him and George for his pranks was a sound that Fred could mimic in his sleep. Maybe he could make her loosen up? He glanced at the witch that was still meticulously making her way down the incline, and sighed. Helping her break free and loosen up would be harder than anything he had ever done before.

A small yelp resonated within the area around the shack, and a head of bushy curls began accelerating toward the shack.

Miraculously stopping herself directly at Fred's feet, Hermione pushed her way off of the ground, dusted her clothes off, and barely glanced at Fred before she made her way towards the hole in the wall of the shack. Pausing at the front of the gaping hole, Hermione reconsidered coming, but her inner lioness refused to allow her to submit to trepidation. She looked back at Fred, who had not moved an inch.

"Well, are you coming with me?" She retorted, and with a smirk, Fred followed her.

Ducking their heads under a piece of plywood, the pair entered the shack and found it to be seemingly harmless, but undoubtedly spooky. Scratch marks covered the walls, floorboards were ripped apart so that the barren ground beneath them showed, and shredded curtains dangled hung partially unhinged from the wall.

"Is this a spooky enough Halloween for you?" Fred asked airily, intruding on the eerie silence that had swallowed the house. Hermione gulped, but she wasn't as scared as she thought she would have been. In fact, the place felt almost familiar to her…

"Someone sure tore this place apart," she wondered aloud.

Shaking the thoughts out of her head and taking a step further, Hermione became the first among the two of them to further infiltrate the shack. As she walked around a raggedy armchair and dodged pieces of glass that lay on the floor, her hands lightly bounced over and onto the scratch marks that were engrained into the wall. She could feel something powerful emanating from the scratch marks, and Hermione couldn't help but be intrigued. Pausing at a scratch that was particularly deep, Hermione traced the outline and suddenly, she heard a voice that was oddly akin to Harry's.

 _"_ _How did you get in here?!"_ the voice echoed in a harsh whisper.

Gasping and taking a step back away from the wall, Hermione looked at over at the redhead with wide eyes. But he was looking the other way, equally intrigued by another set of scratch marks next to the raggedy armchair. He didn't look phased at all- had she imagined the voice?

"Did you hear that?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm, hear what?" Fred said distantly, and at that point, Hermione decided she was going insane. Releasing a shaky breath, Hermione removed her hand from the wall and took a step back.

Fred, however, was far too absorbed in the whisperings that occupied the space around him to really pay attention to what Hermione was experiencing a short distance away from him. His fingers traced a faded carving in the wall that seemed to resemble a square divided into four sections, with each section containing either paw print, deer hoof, a nose and whiskers, or a crescent moon.

 _"_ _So I was looking into Muggle magazines and they have this new rage called 'your mom jokes', you gotta hear one."_

Fred took a step back from the carving. What he had just heard sounded an awful lot like something Lee or George would say to him, but the voice was distinctly different and he couldn't pinpoint whom it belonged to. Cautiously, he took a step forward to place his fingers on the paw print engraving again.

 _"_ _Okay, listen, your mom is so ugly, she makes onions cry. Get it? Cause onions usually make people cry and Muggles reversed the roles and they're just so great, dude. I learned that word from my magazines too… "_

Laughing to himself, Fred dragged his fingers farther across the engraved symbols. A trail of some minutely small and carved animal print traced the wall, and Fred followed it, paying little attention to where they were leading him.

Hermione's fingers found their way back to the wall, but, partially out of fear that more ghosts would haunt her and partially out of a desire to know what other marks there were engrained into the wall, she didn't trace the same mark that she had traced before.

The pair soon found that the trails and marks they had been following led them to the same place, below a set of stairs. Looking at each other, they seemed to share an unspoken agreement that wherever they went and whatever they encountered up the stairs, they would do it together. Hermione became the first to begin the ascent to the second level of the Shrieking Shack, because, while Fred's trail of animal prints had ended, the claw marks that she was following had not.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Hermione let out a small gasp and covered her eyes. Seeing her obvious expression of dismay and expecting the worst, Fred leaped up the last four stairs to reach her, his wand on the ready. But instead of meeting a dark creature or trap of any kind, Fred saw a room ravaged beyond repair in front of his eyes. What once could have been living quarters for a witch or a wizard, were now rusty, paint-peeled bedposts on a large queen-sized bed that seemed to squeak in the wind, a rotting cabinet that could give you a splinter if you just looked at it, and a musty rug with a fading oriental pattern. Hermione wandered over to what appeared to be similar to the structure of a vanity, but was more just a cheap frameless mirror propped up onto a cabinet.

"This certainly isn't homey," Fred pondered aloud, stepping closer to where Hermione was standing, "but I was expecting a lot more terror enclosed within the walls of this infamous shack".

As Hermione's fingers went up to touch the top of the mirror, her hip grazed a nearby stool that allowed for the perfect position that her time turner needed to slip from her pocket and land on the floor. While the revolutions of the time turner had not been frantic when she had observed it last outside of Honeydukes, at this moment, the movements of the golden, magical trinket could not be described as anything but. Hermione picked the chain up with a single finger, seemingly entranced by the time-turner. Light spewed from the gems encrusted within the outer frame, and just as Fred reached Hermione's elbow, intending to grab her and pull her farther from the device, an enormous ray of light emitted from the trinket, and Hermione and Fred felt their breath quickly leave their throats and their bodies being pulled backwards by an indescribably strong force.

Early afternoon, October 31st, 1974

A couple of seconds later, with Fred's hand nearly stopping the blood flow to Hermione's elbow, the pair discovered that they could breath again. While both of them gasped to regain their breath, Fred let his hand drop from Hermione's elbow and began to turn his head to observe the room around him. He could vaguely tell that it was the same bed space that he and Hermione had seemingly occupied just moments earlier, but the state of the furniture begged to differ. The bed frame, that had been rusty and paint-peeled, was now gleaming white and shining as if it was almost porcelain. Fred noted that the bed's frame looked surprisingly like the hospital wing's beds that he had stayed in so many times. The cabinet, while still not so sturdy, was completely in tact, and the makeshift vanity had a mirror with an oakwood frame. The oriental patterned rug was still dusty, but upon closer inspection, Fred realized that he could more clearly see the pattern now.

Looking over at Hermione, Fred realized that she must have been scanning the room and making the same observations that he had been making. While Fred only felt curious, Hermione wore a grim look on her face.

"I knew something like this would happen," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"That I knew something like this would happen! Ever since that day in the library that we realized we were both researching completely obscure elements of time travel, we should have been prepared! We knew better! And now we're here, with absolutely no food, no change of clothes, no books that can help us back, no paper, and not even a single quill! I should have always had stuff packed- Fred Weasley, how are you just sitting there, picking at dust on the rug?!"

"Well, 'Mione, I don't really understand what you swear has happened. Everything seems perfectly fine to me. Plus, with all that screaming we're bound to attract attention, so I'm not sure what your goal is here."

"Are you daft?" Hermione begun, this time in a hushed tone, "We've been blasted back in time, triggered by this horrid place that we've found ourselves in! And I don't know how we're going to get back without the time-turner deciding for us, which means we could be here for weeks! Months! Years! And we have nothing!"

Practically falling to the floor, Hermione sat with her legs splayed out and put her face in her hands, taking a couple of deep, calming breaths. Looking behind him and stretching his arms far, Fred opened the middle drawer of the cabinet that rested on the wall opposite the set of stairs. Inside, he found a spare set of school robes (with a Gryffindor insignia!), a pair of jeans, sweatpants, a couple t-shirts, and some pajamas. In the drawer above, were multiple pairs of socks, underwear, a book, and – Fred grinned giddily- a huge stash of Honeyduke's chocolate.

"Hey, Hermione, I don't think you need to abandon all hope."

Groaning and rolling over onto her stomach, Hermione nestled her face into the dusty carpet and closed her eyes, feigning sleep.

"Oh, and why would that be, my all-knowing companion?"

"Ah, the beloved snarky princess has returned. Look at what I found."

"Is it a rodent because I'm not willing to stoop that low just yet."

"Do you really think of me so poorly? _Look_ at this."

Hermione lifted her head up to look at what the red-headed boy was so insistent on her seeing. Gasping and scrambling over to the cabinet, she picked up a bar of chocolate and examined it intently.

"It's Honeydukes!" she said excitedly.

"Indeed."

"We could duplicate this easily, and maybe even manipulate it to be something else!"

"We could."

"And there's a book!"

"Yup."

"It's by Kurt Vonnegut! It's a Muggle book!"

"It is."

"And I could probably survive wearing this underwear."

"Probably."

"And these socks."

"And the socks."

Hermione glanced at the boy that was repeating her every sentence. He sat there, looking mildly amused, a smirk toying with his lips.

"Sorry that I got snippy with you earlier."

"There're extra clothes in the drawer below that one."

Opening it, Hermione smiled as soon as she saw the sweatpants and the t-shirts.

"Perhaps we can survive."

"Told you so."

"You want to borrow the book I brought from the library?"

"Of course you'd bring a book with you to Hogsmeade."

"I'm always ready for boredom. Not so much for time travel though," she said, digging through her messenger bag for the book. After a couple seconds, she found a colossal book that Fred couldn't believe she had carried with her through the Gunhilda tunnel.

"Here, it's about the history of runes, their relation to Muggles, and their influence on modern times."

Fred bent his head back and began to feign snoring. Mid-snore, he opened one eye and saw Hermione glare at him with her arms crossed across her chest. Yawning and stretching his arms out, he moved over to take the book from Hermione's hands.

"I suppose I can read that."

Hermione grabbed the book from the top drawer and settled herself on the bed to begin reading. Fred laid himself on the floor beneath her and opened the book, but the words just floated off the pages, meaningless.

"You know we should go tell a professor. Hogwarts isn't so far from here," he airily commented.

"It must be Halloween, since. We can't risk other students accidentally seeing us, and there's no guarantee that either Dumbledore or McGonagall will be there. We'll wait until classes start so that we can slip into the school without looking suspicious. I want to relax now- we can formulate the rest of the plan later." She said all this lazily, without a single glance up from her book.

"Sounds good."

Just as Fred was about to start reading, he heard a familiar, rather one-sided, conversation.

"So I was looking into Muggle magazines and they have this new rage called 'your mom jokes', you gotta hear one."

Hermione perked up suddenly, impeccably resembling a deer in headlights. She scrambled to the floor on the side of the bed, where she couldn't easily be seen from the door. Fred heard footsteps echoing up the staircase, and knew he should move, but felt like he was glued to the spot.

"Okay, listen, your mom is so ugly, she makes onions cry. Get it? Cause onions usually make people cry and Muggles reversed the roles and they're just so great, dude. I learned that word from my magazines too… "

A padlock was unlocked, and a pair of boys entered the room, wands suddenly at the ready. Fred froze. Hermione saw a pair of angry lips begin to say the words that had haunted her not so long ago. Well, not so long ago in her timeline at least.

 _"_ _How did you get in here?!"_


End file.
